“I know, boy.” I let him weep. “I know.”
Now, in Lunapolis, I looked up to the Admiral. “Why won’t you understand? I’m the worst officer you’ve ever had, and always you reward me! You’d even put me in charge of your children. I warn you, don’t!”
“You’ll do well, Seafort. When can you start?”
I was defeated. “I need time with my wife.”
“Of course. Four weeks, then? Standard long-leave?”
“I suppose.”
“Good.” He smiled. “By the way, I’ve approved your final report on Victoria and sent your personnel recommendations to BuPers.”
“Very well.”
“You’re sure you want that fellow put back to lieutenant?”
“Tolliver? Yes.”
“We’ll do it, but no one will take him after what he did with the heli. It’s half pay for him, or some outpost like Ganymede Station.”
It would be fitting punishment. For me. I said, “I’ll take him.”
“Hmmm, odd of you. The others will be no problem, of course.”
I’d recommended that Bram Steiner’s commission be reinstated without penalty. I’d also written Lieutenant Kahn a good rating, though I hadn’t told him so. I rather admired his thespian abilities. From the moment of my ultimatum, his seething hatred had been indiscernible.
The one officer who’d been true to his convictions was Thomas Ross, and he’d paid dearly for it for the remainder of the cruise. Not at my hand, but at Kahn’s after his reinstatement. It didn’t help that I’d stripped him of all seniority, and he’d been low man in the wardroom, lower even than Avar Bezrel.
When the flagship Defused from Hope Nation, Bezrel would be returned to Admiral De Marnay. Perhaps he’d be happier under the wing of his protector. As for Jerence...the corners of my mouth turned up. I’d be his guardian still. Like me, he’d be sent to Academy.
Senator Boland coughed. “There’s one more thing. Would you consider...”
I said impatiently, “Yes?”
“Getting rid of that awful scar?”
My hand flew to my face. “It’s part of me.”
“An unnecessary part. We tone it down on the posters, but for heaven’s sake...you’re famous enough without it.”
“That’s not why I wear it.”
“I know, I know. They showed me your psych report. Bear your guilt, if you must, but carry it inside like the rest of us. Would you do that much?”
“I—well—all right, if you insist.”
“Thank you.”
“Go enjoy your leave, then.” In a daze, I shook hands as they left.
When the cabin was silent, I dropped into my chair and sat musing. Lord God, are You toying with me? If I could have Your forgiveness, Your love once more, even for just a moment...No, I know better than to ask. But why, then, do You let them reward me? And my friends, Alexi, Jerence, Tolliver. Was it for their sakes You helped them through their travail, or could it have been for mine?
Will I ever meet You?
I didn’t know. Absently I began to pack. For now, there was long-leave. There was Annie. There was duty.
Someday I’d know the rest.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
copyright © 1995 by David Feintuch
cover design by Michel Vrana
978-1-4532-9703-2
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Prisoner's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 3) Page 53